


sleepless

by piratej



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, hongjoong just works too hard and seonghwa keeps him grounded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 04:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18203417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratej/pseuds/piratej
Summary: Hongjoong is happy. At least, Seonghwa thinks so. He’s stressed, and exhausted, and whines into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, but he’s happy. Fulfilled. It’s better than it was in school, when he worked himself to death and dodged truancy citations. Music was his everything, and he was Seonghwa’s. Everything worked out alright.





	sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> really fell in love with this group and their relationships, looking forward to writing about them more! lmk if there’s any specific pairings or stories you’d like to see

Hongjoong is happy. At least, Seonghwa thinks so. He’s stressed, and exhausted, and whines into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck whenever everything gets too much, but he’s _happy_. Fulfilled. It’s better than it was in school, when he worked himself to death and dodged truancy citations. Music was his everything, and he was Seonghwa’s. Everything worked out alright.    
  
Hunched over his MacBook, eyes squinted behind glasses that weren’t prescription, small hands occasionally halting their rapid motions across the keyboard to wipe the sleep from the corners of them, Hongjoong is kind of adorable. His sweater, pale blue and stolen from Yunho, bunches around his wrists and slides down to expose a honey colored expanse of shoulder, the delicate jut of a collar bone. Seonghwa can’t help the urge to kiss it. Hongjoong turns to look at him, half of a bemused smile on his lips, face only inches away. One dark eyebrow quirks.    
  
“Well, hello,” Hongjoong says, wrinkling his nose. That’s adorable, too, small and sharp and upturned, so Seonghwa plants his next kiss there and huffs a laugh when Hongjoong goes cross-eyed to watch him. “What are you doing?”    
  
Seonghwa leans back, silently marveling in the way Hongjoong’s head bows forward to chase him, just a little bit. “Nothing. Have you eaten?” It’s a stupid question, because he knows he hasn’t, but he always asks, if just to see the bashful grimace Hongjoong contorts his face into, looking back at his MacBook. “Hong-ie?” Seonghwa blows into his ear.    
  
Hongjoong squeals and ducks, clapping a hand over the ear and glaring at Seonghwa. “No, I’ve been busy. This track is almost done.” Seonghwa hums. Kissing Hongjoong’s cheek lightly, he rises, laughing to himself at the absent-minded grabbing hands that mourn his absence, and leaves the studio room. In the kitchen, he finds San sitting on the counter, something Hongjoong always scolds him for, Wooyoung leaning against the opposite side. They’re talking too fast for Seonghwa to catch more than a few words, but he smiles at them in greeting and moves to the cupboard, finding a cup of instant noodles and walking past the younger boys to fill the cup with water.     
  
San, looking rumpled and sleepy in his oversized T shirt and pajama bottoms so long they pool around his feet (another article of clothing stolen from Yunho, Seonghwa suspects), speaks to Seonghwa. “Hey, hyung. Late night?” It’s not him that he’s referring to.    
  
Seonghwa shrugs a shoulder, putting the cup in the microwave. “You know him.”    
  
“‘Just one more song’,” Wooyoung mimics, laughing to himself. San nudges him playfully with a foot. “He’s a good leader.”    
  
Pushing the button on the microwave, Seonghwa smiles, thinking about the way Hongjoong would forgo sleep entirely if it meant he could take care of them, that they’d have less to do in the morning. “Yes, he is.”   
  
San looks at Seonghwa slyly, dimples deepening with his grin. Wooyoung pokes one. “You love him, hyung.” San teases.    
  
In his reflection on the door of the microwave, watching the cup of noodles spin, Seonghwa can see his smitten little smile. “Yes, I do,” San and Wooyoung coo, drowned out by the beeping of the microwave and the click of the door as Seonghwa opens it. “Get some sleep.”   
  
San hops off the counter. “Yes sir!” He says in English, Wooyoung finishing the lyric with another laugh. The two of them shuffle out of the kitchen, doing their ridiculous handshake before parting ways to their own rooms. Seonghwa shakes his head.  _ Kids _ .    
  
Cup of noodles in hand, along with a bag of Hongjoong’s favorite chips, Seonghwa pads silently back to the studio. Hongjoong hasn’t moved, except to lean ever closer to his screen. At Seonghwa’s entrance, he glances up, pink tongue poking out of pinker lips. “Is that for me? I’ll eat it when I finish.”    
  
Seonghwa  _ hmph _ s. “It’s for  _ me _ .” He settles back down at Hongjoong’s side, flicking his chopsticks at the tip of Hongjoong’s nose and stirring his noodles innocently when Hongjoong startles. He resolutely ignores the shrewd glance aimed his way, occupying himself with blowing the steam from the cup. The bag of chips gets placed beside his knee. When he’s satisfied that Seonghwa won’t bother him anymore, Hongjoong turns back to his laptop, clicking and typing in bursts, sighing often, humming snatches of melody to himself.    
  
“Sounds good,” Seonghwa praises, lifting noodles out of the cup carefully, making sure nothing drips. “Open.” Hongjoong, who had been expecting the food, does what he’s asked, obediently widening his jaw and chewing carefully. Seonghwa smiles.    
  
They continue like that, Seonghwa offering him bites of food, Hongjoong opening his mouth to accept them without looking away from the screen. It’s a little bit of a marvel, how in tune they are to each other. Seonghwa sits quietly, watching. He loves watching Hongjoong.    
  
Hongjoong is at his best when he doesn’t think anyone sees. The pressure of expectations melted away, and Hongjoong is just beautiful, talented, so perfect it makes Seonghwa’s head spin. In his own element, absorbed singularly by the track on his MacBook. Seonghwa loves him, just a little bit more than he did a few minutes ago.    
  
The bluish cast of the screen reflects on the lenses of his glasses, and Seonghwa deftly plucks them off his face. Hongjoong doesn’t protest, just goes cross eyed again as he rubs the red indent on the sloping bridge of his nose. His nose always reminds Seonghwa of ski slopes, arched and pointed. Hongjoong’s eyes, dark and sparkling, currently squinting to see the screen. The silver chains and spikes in his ears glint in the light; Seonghwa reminds himself to make sure he takes them out before he goes to sleep. Although he might be a little biased, Seonghwa thinks it’s almost ridiculous, how pretty Hongjoong is.    
  
He’s so delicate, thin wrists and small hands, soft skin, shining eyes. The veins in his eyelids and the inside of his wrists are greenish blue when the skin stretches. He reminds Seonghwa of a bird, hollow bones and a beautiful song.      
  
Seonghwa spends so long admiring his leader that when Hongjoong nudges him with a shoulder, sweater slipping even further down, he startles. “Are you finished?”    
  
Hongjoong looks dejectedly at the empty cup of noodles. Seonghwa laughs. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”    
  
“That’s what happens when you don’t eat. Are you finished?” Hongjoong opts to pout instead of answering. Rolling his eyes, Seonghwa retrieves the bag of chips from beside him, crinkling it obnoxiously in Hongjoong’s ear. “ASMR.”   
  
Hongjoong swats him away, pushing at Seonghwa’s shoulder while simultaneously trying to reach for the chips. Seonghwa, gifted with a few more inches of height and much longer arms than Hongjoong, raises it above his head. Hongjoong’s pout deepens.    
  
“I  _ guess _ I can be finished,” he sighs, sounding put out. “Now will you share?” He leans back until his head is pillowed on Seonghwa’s relaxed shoulder, neck craned, Adam's Apple sharp. When Seonghwa doesn’t immediately drop the chips, Hongjoong twists just enough to poke his nose into the soft spot just under Seonghwa’s ear, planting a featherlight kiss there right after. “Please?”    
  
That’s all it takes; Seonghwa lowers his arm, Hongjoong’s thin fingers meeting his bicep halfway, tugging it down into his own lap. The hand that isn’t relinquishing Seonghwa’s hold on the chip bag draws little patterns on the soft skin of his forearm, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Finally turning his face away from Seonghwa’s neck, Hongjoong sits up straight and takes the chip bag in both hands, tearing it open carefully. In a move so painfully, characteristically Hongjoong, he offers Seonghwa the first chip, who takes it with a soft smile. Only when Seonghwa has his chip between his teeth does Hongjoong begin eating his own, chewing quietly, leaning his weight on Seonghwa’s right side.    
  
His left hand stretched across his lap to rub his thumb over the swell of bone in Hongjoong’s exposed ankle, Seonghwa twists the fingers of his right hand through the inches of hair at the nape of Hongjoong’s neck, lightly scratching his scalp. Hongjoong hums contentedly, like a cat, jaw working as he chews. While Hongjoong is distracted, Seonghwa carefully reaches out with the hand in his lap to save his work and shut his laptop, nudging it away with his foot. Hongjoong watches through dark, tired eyes.    
  
“Hong-ie, you need sleep.”    
  
Hongjoong yawns. “I know, hyung. I’m trying.”    
  
Seonghwa laughs again at his bleary eyes, the way he can barely stay awake, even with the chip in his mouth. “Come on, let’s go.” With minimal help from Hongjoong, Seonghwa pulls both of them to their feet. He tries shuffling them to their room, but settles for wrapping an arm around Hongjoong’s waist and half carrying him to bed.    
  
He deposits Hongjoong on top of his comforter as gracefully as possible, Hongjoong letting out a quiet _oof_ as he hits the spread. Seonghwa kisses him softly in apology. In a hushed voice, Seonghwa guides Hongjoong to prop his head on Seonghwa’s knee, and Seonghwa gets to work gently removing the jewelry dangling from his ears. Hongjoong dozes with his head in Seonghwa’s lap, wrinkling his nose whenever Seonghwa doesn’t quite manage to be gentle enough.    
  
When he finally rids Hongjoong of anything that would poke either of them, he picks him up again, lifting him just enough to get him under the covers and pull them back over the both of them. Endlessly endearing, Hongjoong snuffles, seeking out the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. His bangs tickle the skin there, breath hot as it escapes between parted, plush lips.    
  
Easy as breathing, Seonghwa pulls him closer, trailing a hand along his spine until his breathing evens out. Only then does Seonghwa close his own eyes, drifting off to the barely there whistle of Hongjoong’s inhales.


End file.
